


Brat

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 01:46:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8425900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Kylo has a bad day. Phasma is unimpressed.





	

“Come over here and make me.”  


Phasma feels her chest swell with minor annoyance. When he’s feeling like this, it’s difficult to wrangle him. Difficult, but not impossible, and to be fair she was drawn to the challenge in the first place.

“You’re perfectly capable of doing it without my assistance.”  


“That’s not the point.”  


“That’s _precisely_ the point,” she snaps back, not backing down one bit.   


He’s standing in the corner of the room, like he thinks he can blend into the shadows if he tries hard enough. His black robes are stark against the metal, though, and she has to fight not to fold her arms over her chest.

He is not her child. Even if sometimes he behaves like he is. 

“Maybe I should just _go_.”  


“Is that what you want?” Her tone is Starkiller-cold, and he lips curl slightly from her teeth.  


He doesn’t. He wants to feel like he won, but he also doesn’t want to be left alone. He’s just being ornery for the sake of it, now. And once he’s started, it becomes harder and harder to bring him back down. Pissiness begets pissiness. 

“This is ridiculous.”  


“Yes,” she agrees. “It is.”  


“I don’t have to stay and be insulted by _you_.”  


“Then don’t.”  


They’re at an impasse, but he’s the one in the wrong, and she _will not_ back down. 

Although…

“Sit here.”  


“Why?”  


Her natural instinct to bark the order rises, but she tries her best to keep that fire down. “Just sit with me.”

“I don’t unders–”  


“Kylo. Stop being an idiot and come sit with me. You’re acting like a child, and I don’t have time for children.”  


“I am _not_.”  


“Then **prove it**.”  


He growls, but after a moment he sits.

Sullenly. Sulkily. 

“I am not your enemy, Kylo.”  


“I didn’t say you–”  


She puts a finger on his lips, waits for him to stop. “Do not take your aggression out on me. If you need to fight, we take it to the dojo. If you want to shout about other people, you shout about them. But I will not allow you to take your emotional distress out on me by proxy.”

His head tries to turn, and she knows she’s hit a nerve. She lets him, but puts a hand on his shoulder. 

“Now… are you going to tell me what’s upset you?”  


His head shakes.

“Do you want to go to the dojo to work it out?”  


Another shake. 

“Would you like icecream and a holo instead?”  


It’s unconventional, but it’s what he normally offers to her, so she suspects he thinks it’s what works. It’s not unpleasant, though she’s never been one for comfort food before him. There’s a tiny, tiny nod. 

Phasma goes to get some, and then grabs a big cushion to prop between them so he can lean comfortably against her side.

“…sry,” he mumbles, as he works the spoon under the lid.  


“It’s okay.” Some of her anger has died down, and she feels… good that she resolved the situation without real rage.

She’s going to have to learn how to get him calmer, faster. It’s not as if she ever feels in danger, but she also knows that screaming at her won’t fix whatever’s wrong. Icecream might not, either, but when he’s done he might feel able to tell her what, precisely, brought this on.   


And if nothing else, icecream. She’s found she quite likes it.


End file.
